


Remember Me..?

by sweetie_pie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Selective Amnesia, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 13:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetie_pie/pseuds/sweetie_pie
Summary: When Stiles comes to after a car accident, he feels completely fine, except for that person shaped hole in his heart that his memories can’t seem to fill. When he confronts his friends about it, he gets his answer but not the one that he expected. Seems his heart is missing a werewolf.





	Remember Me..?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> tried my hand at another popular trope: Amnesia.  
> Always lovely to play with those two. ;)  
> Hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> sweetie-pie <3

Stiles was staring. He wasn’t sure for how long he hasn’t moved but the silence was already laying heavily upon his ears. Nobody said anything, just looked at Stiles while he stood there, slack jawed and gaping. “Stiles?”, Scott inquired carefully. “You okay, dude?” Stiles’ mouth shut and he turned to his best friend. “Okay?! Am I okay?!”, he parroted angrily. Scott visibly flinched, obviously sheepish. “You ask me if I’m -okay-? Of course I am not okay! How could you keep this from me?!”, Stiles continued to rant and pointed an accusing finger at Scott, since he didn’t exactly have enough accusing fingers to point them at Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Deaton and Scott.

“Stiles…”, Deaton began with a soothing tone, “Your friends just wanted…” “-You-, I didn’t expect anything else from, Mr. ‘I’m just a veterinarian’”, Stiles interrupted abruptly. “But you guys, seriously?!” He turned to face them all and different sets of emotions greeted him on the faces of his friends. Allison looked sympathetic and apologetic, Lydia looked disapproving and as if she wanted to protest, Isaac looked… well, like Isaac, kind of like a fluffy kitten that was a little too cocky for its own good, Deaton looked like a concerned father and at the same time like a teacher that was trying, unsuccessfully, to explain something to a particularly dense student, and Scott… Scott was always a category of his own.

Stiles loved the guy, he really did. He had been there for him when everything turned to shit, when his mom got sick and his dad started drinking. Stiles had been there for him when his parents were fighting and eventually when his dad left. They had been there for each other through the embarrassing stages of puberty, first crushes and boring lessons. Scott wasn’t the kind of friend that defended him when he got in trouble with Mr. Harris yet again, he was the kind of friend who, given the cause, proceeded to annoy Harris so much that he got detention too and could keep Stiles company, restocking the library shelves or whatever senseless task their lovely chemistry teacher had thought out for them. In short: Stiles couldn’t imagine his life without him and also didn’t want to. They had each other’s backs, always, or, well… that’s at least what Stiles had thought. Now Scott looked back at him with a frown between his laughing eyes and a barely outwards jutting bottom lip. If he really were a puppy and not just sometimes behaved like one, Stiles was sure he would be lying on his back by now, whining softly for his forgiveness. It was ridiculous. How the fuck should he ever stay mad at Scott if he had that image in his head. It just wasn’t fair! “Stop that!”, he therefore demanded sharply and sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

“Okay… Are we done with the pity party now?”, Lydia asked impatiently. Stiles looked up, already gathering his breath for a pissy response, but Lydia cut him off with a warning gesture of her hands. “We just didn’t tell you because the doctor and Scott’s mom said it would be better if the memory came back on its own instead of shoving it in your face”, she explained and Stiles’ eyebrows drew together, trying to find something wrong with that statement but not able to. Of course he wasn’t able to, it was Lydia after all. “Lydia is right, Stiles. You experienced serious head trauma and it’s kind of a miracle that there is not more missing from your memory”, Deaton added, again very solemnly. Seriously, did this guy ever do anything but solemnly? “Not more? Oh sure… not more. That’s very comforting”, Stiles replied sarcastically. Scott sighed. “We’re really sorry, man, but we all thought it was best… Well we didn’t want you to…”, Scott tried to calm him. “Die”, Isaac finished his sentence.

Everybody turned to look at him with exasperation and pointed looks. “What?”, he asked. “I’m just saying what everybody has been thinking.” He turned to Stiles. “We didn’t tell you because we were afraid you might freak out, have a heart attack or something and die”, he summarized without any tact. Typical. Stiles’ look expressed more than words could ever say. He managed to tell Isaac at the same time that he was so done with his bullshit and that he wasn’t even gonna waste his breath to give him a verbal response to that. Immediately after, Stiles leaned back against the examination table -they were currently holding an emergency meeting at Deaton’s animal clinic- and the fight just went out of him, his shoulders slumping and his face going back to a somewhat neutral expression. “Who is he?”, he asked, directed at Scott, hoping that his best friend would be the easiest to get information out of.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea”, Allison remarked and locked her eyes with Scott, before she turned to Stiles. “I mean… I’m sorry, Stiles, but I think we should stick to what the doctors have said. Do you really want to risk going into shock… or worse?”, she added warmly. Stiles didn’t say anything for a couple of breaths and then turned back to Scott. “Who is he?”, he asked again. Scott sighed: “Stiles, don’t you think that what Allison said…” “I don’t care, okay?! You have no idea what this feels like and I’d rather have a fricken heart attack than continue to feel like this.” “Stiles…”, Allison tried again carefully. “No. Look… I am really touched that all of you are so concerned about my wellbeing, I really am, but this is my decision and I want to know.” He looked back at his friends, tone and expression serious. He was done with all the secret keeping and walking on egg shells around him. He needed answers. “Please”, he added, directing it at Scott and after a few heartbeats he could see his best friend’s resolve crumble.

Scott sighed again. “He is…” “Scott!”, Lydia interrupted him warningly. Scott turned to the rest of the group, to his pack, and addressed them all. “No, Stiles is right. He deserves to know and maybe getting his memories back will hurt him, but maybe not telling him is hurting him too. We don’t know that and I personally hate lying to him. It’s been four days and Stiles still doesn’t remember. How much longer should we wait?” Scott looked at everybody and saw that they were still concerned but were trusting his judgement. He turned back to Stiles. “His name is Derek”, he said, and Stiles was practically frozen, as he concentrated hard on every word coming out of his best friend’s mouth. The name rang through his mind, while he was going into overdrive trying to tie it to an image, a memory, a sound, a smell… anything. Nothing stuck. The name was as blank as a white sheet of paper, nothing but noise. Somehow that made Stiles incredibly sad and judging by the slightly hopeful and then crushed expressions of his friends, they were feeling the same way.

“Who is he?”, he asked again, this time more urgently, since apparently he was finally getting the answers he was looking for. “He is a werewolf just like me, but not like me entirely”, Scott started and stopped to rearrange the thoughts in his head. “He was born a wolf, Stiles, not turned. His family, his -pack-, the Hale pack, lived here in Beacon Hills until almost all of them died in a fire.” “Were killed by fire”, Allison interjected with a bitter but determined look on her face. “My aunt Kate killed nearly all of them by burning them alive”, she added, stating the facts that Scott had wanted to avoid out of respect for her. Scott gave her a soothing look that was just meant for her alone and then turned back to Stiles. Stiles was speechless by this new information. This just sounded… He didn’t even find a word that was horrible enough to label this sort of crime.

“All of them?”, he asked quietly, almost scared and unbelieving. Scott made a vague yes/no gesture with his hands. “Besides Derek, his uncle Peter also made it out of the fire. Do you remember him?” Stiles wracked his brain. “I… no… maybe? Seems like everything connected to Derek is kind of fuzzy”, he answered unsure. “He is the one that bit you, right? The one that went on a crazy killing spree and nearly killed Lydia in the process?” “Yes. That’s lovely Uncle Peter”, Lydia answered instead of Scott. “So you -do- remember him… Hmm… That is peculiar”, Deaton mused and seemed almost a little fascinated at Stiles’ selective memory loss.

Stiles didn’t pay attention to any of that. He was laser-focused on Scott, trying telepathically to get his friend to just tell him more already. He needed to know -more-. Scott seemed to sense his impatience and so he continued unprompted. “Apart from him there is also Derek’s little sister Cora. She left Beacon Hills a while ago. As far as I know she and Derek are still in contact, though.” All of this was great and Stiles was really happy that in all the tragedy that Derek seemed to have lived through there was still family in his life, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear more about and Scott knew that… Scott was stalling. But why? “How did we meet him?”, he asked, trying to get back to the path they were on before. “We were looking for a body in the woods. His older sister’s body. At the time we still thought, or well… -you- were sure that it was -Derek- who was killing people.” Stiles hummed thoughtfully, parts of this seemed familiar, almost evoking nebulous images, but every time he tried to focus on the figure that he knew to be Derek, the image disappeared.

“Is he an alpha too?” “No. He used to be, but…”, Isaac said but stopped and everyone seemed sad for a moment. “He gave up his powers to save his sister and he also lost nearly all his betas”, Allison explained kindly. “Almost?”, Stiles asked, again overwhelmed with emotion because he was imagining what Derek had had to go through. “I’m the only one that survived, but since Derek is not an Alpha anymore…”, Isaac trailed off and looked at Scott. “We’re one pack now. Derek is not formally part of it, but he is in all the ways that matter”, Scott found the words that Isaac hadn’t been able to. Stiles liked the sound of that, felt like there was a strong bond and a level of respect between Derek and Scott, almost like they were brothers. “Okay… So let’s see… Derek is a born werewolf, lost almost all his family in a fire, crazy uncle, distant sister, part of the pack”, Stiles made a list out loud and Scott nodded to every new point. “This is all great and thanks for the backstory and all, but why do I have the feeling there is something you are still not telling me?” Scott had the decency to look ashamed and avoid his eyes, sighing heavily.

“What is he to me?”, Stiles asked, no -demanded-, pleadingly. He needed the answer, needed to know why for four days now, ever since he had woken up in a hospital bed, feeling sluggish but completely fine otherwise, he was feeling as if there was a vital part missing, as if there should be something, or maybe someone, there. He hadn’t been sleeping well, always having the feeling in the pit of his stomach as if he was forgetting something, as if he should be doing something, as if there was unfinished business. Derek didn’t feel like just another member of the pack to him, he didn’t feel like Scott or Isaac or Lydia or Allison. “You are in love with him”, Lydia finally said, unusually softly, what Stiles had been suspecting but not suspecting at all at the same time. He spluttered and had to press his hand against his chest because his heart was suddenly racing. “W…what?” He turned to Scott, silently seeking help, an explanation, something. Scott sighed. “You have been in love with him for a long time now. I guess, last year it was still just bantering and teasing and pushing each other’s buttons as hard as possible, but this year… You changed… Both of you, and you told me that you realized that is was more now… That you wanted more now.”

More? With Derek? More with Derek? “I don’t even…”, Stiles started, ‘know that I’m into dudes’, ‘know who Derek is’, ‘know what to say or feel or do about this’. He didn’t even know how to finish this damn sentence. Stiles realized that he must have been silent for a long time, because Scott was standing right in front of him now with a concerned look on his face and lips that formed his name, apparently not for the first time. He blinked rapidly and finally looked back at Scott. “You okay? Panic attack?” Stiles nodded to the first and shook his head to the second. “No, I’m good… I’m good.” He shook himself slightly to rid himself of the rigidness. “I don’t really know what to say”, Stiles said honestly and looked at his friends. “I mean… What you said, it sounds true… Right, you know? But I still don’t…”, he sighed frustrated. “I don’t -feel- it.” Allison took a step in his direction. “You just don’t remember. That doesn’t mean that it’s not real or that you won’t get it back. Just… Give it some time, okay? Don’t try to force it.” Scott nodded in agreement and Stiles reluctantly nodded as well.

“Does he know?” “About your completely unsubtle crush?”, Isaac teased playfully and making Stiles glare good-naturedly in return. “He knows”, Scott intervened. “Took him long enough to figure it out, though”, Lydia huffed and then added: “But when he did…”, she trailed off and grinned brightly at Stiles. “What? When he did then… what?”, Stiles asked exasperated, not happy to be kept out of the loop again. “Let’s just say, he didn’t waste a whole lot of time to show you just how much your feelings were actually returned”, she added slyly and Allison freaking winked at him. Stiles looked at Scott, hoping he would clear up the ambiguous situation. Scott looked -very- uncomfortable, blush high on his cheeks and he had to clear his throat before answering. “He kissed you, dude.” Stiles gulped and almost automatically wet his lips with his tongue. Well, apparently he wasn’t going to die as a lonely virgin. That was good news, right? Right, provided Derek was actually a decent human being/ werewolf with a decent character and decent looks. Stiles definitively wasn’t shallow but he couldn’t imagine being with someone he wasn’t physically attracted to either.

“So he is like… my boyfriend or something?” The uncomfortable looks were back in place. “I don’t really know”, Scott said and how the fuck was that an answer?! “What do you mean, you don’t know? Do we go out to watch movies, does he hold my hand and write me love ballads, do I text him at 3 o’clock at night to tell him that I miss him, have I ever shared my curly fries with him? Is he my freaking boyfriend, Scott?! What is so hard about this question?!” He was getting angry now, angry and fed up. Here his friends were, telling him about this awesome, hot (in Stiles’ imagination he was definitely hot) werewolf guy that apparently had smooched the life out of him and that he had been missing like crazy for the last couple of days, without knowing it, and now nobody was giving him answers. “Derek kissed you for the first time on the day of the accident. You didn’t really have time for the whole dating thing yet”, Scott explained and winced at Stiles’ crestfallen look.

“So you’re saying that the guy, who has been putting himself out there by kissing me and, due to what I’ve just heard, probably has some serious abandonment issues, has been kindly asked to fuck off the last couple of days, because I wouldn’t remember him anyway, and now doesn’t even know how I’m doing?!” “We kept him updated”, Isaac mumbled in his non-existent beard. “You are driving me to his house right now!”, Stiles demanded sharply. “I would do it myself, but first of all my car is still in the shop from the accident, second of all Melissa would kill me if I would be getting behind the wheel again so soon, and third of all I have no fucking clue where Derek lives!” At this point Stiles was almost panting. “I don’t…”, Scott tried to object. “Scott! Now!” Scott, the big, badass true alpha drew in his horns and nodded eventually. “Should we come with you?”, Allison offered, apparently concerned about how this was all going to turn out. “No. It’ll be fine. If anything comes up, I’ll call you”, Scott reassured and gave her a quick peck on the lips. He waved at the rest of the group, who returned the gesture with nods of their heads or short phrases, and followed Stiles, who was too impatient for even the quickest goodbye and already half out the door.

The longer than expected drive over to Derek’s loft - LOFT as Scott had informed him - was tense. Stiles was basically vibrating in his seat, not able to keep still, mind going in a thousand directions. Scott had tried to offer him a picture of Derek, which he had on his phone from the last pack meeting, but Stiles had declined, not wanting to spoil the surprise for himself. Scott had also proceeded to tell him more about Derek, as much as he could come up with on the go and every new detail anchored itself into Stiles’ mind, clicking into place like a puzzle piece. Derek seemed interesting, fascinating even, having so many different layers that even Scott’s patchy description of him seemed almost too much to handle.

There was an underlying tragedy in Derek’s life, something which obviously had shaped him. There was hardness to his being but also warmth inside. Warmth and goodness and a will to keep on fighting, keep on trying. Stiles liked that, Stiles could relate to that. He could barely wait to put a face to the story. Scott had offered Stiles some peace of mind, concerning the physical attraction issue at least, by grinningly telling him about all the times Stiles had apparently salivated metaphorically and/or literally over Derek. He also had said something about eyebrows but at this point Stiles was hardly listening anymore, because Scott had stopped the car in front of a building.

“This is it? Are you sure?”, Stiles asked and glanced suspiciously at the empty and unhabituated looking warehouse-type building. “Derek likes the remoteness and the building is his”, Scott offered as an explanation but Stiles could read on his face that his best friend didn’t understand the preference to live here either. “He owns a building, huh? You forgot to mention that he was rich”, Stiles said, mainly to say anything and not focus on his erratic heartbeat and the tightening of his chest. He was nervous. Very nervous. It was kind of nerve-wracking to meet a person for the first time who was a hot, rich werewolf he had apparently had a long-time crush on and already exchanged spit with and simultaneously know next to nothing about them. Stiles took a deep breath and followed Scott out the car. “You okay? Your heart is beating like crazy.” “I’m good. Just nervous, I guess.” “It’ll be fine. Just remember what I told you… If he scowls at you, don’t take it personal. That’s just his default setting.” Stiles nodded. “You really want to go in alone? I could come with”, Scott offered one last time, but Stiles shook his head. “I gotta do this alone. I don’t know how this is going to go, but if it works out as planned, we’ll have a lot to talk about anyway.” “Okay. Good luck, and if anything…” “I know, I know. Thanks, dude”, Stiles waved him off and finally walked into the building.

Finding the loft was easy, since all he needed to do was follow the stairs to the top floor, but the building was a little creepy, which didn’t exactly help with Stiles’ nerves. He reached a big, heavy looking, metal door, with no name attached to it and no doorbell in sight, so he took another deep breath and carefully knocked against the hard surface. His knuckles had just barely made contact with the door, as a voice inside said “It’s open.” Stiles swallowed. Was that Derek? Probably. He had a nice voice. Maybe? What even was a nice voice? Did he have a nice voice? Did Derek think that he had a… “Are you coming in or what?”, the voice asked and Stiles mentally facepalmed. What a great impression he was making on Derek, this was starting out fantastically. He hectically pulled the door aside with a little too much nervous enthusiasm so that it banged against the stopping point and slit shut again a little bit. Stiles, though, didn’t really notice, because his eyes were immediately drawn to the figure standing against the window on the other side of the room. His first thought was: ‘Yep, physical attraction… Definitively not a problem!’

Derek was… beyond good looking. He was a little taller than Stiles but not by much, had an amazing physique that was visible even hidden by washed out jeans and a soft looking, dark blue henley and glared at him with a single-minded focus that, if Scott hadn’t warned him about before, would have probably intimidated Stiles a lot more. Since Derek didn’t make a move to say or do anything, Stiles slid the door shut completely and stepped further into the loft. More up close Stiles could make out Derek’s face now too and it was even more beautiful than the rest of him. His eyes were a bottle green, golden hazel mix and still focused entirely on him, he had a clear cut, symmetrical nose, nicely shaped but tightly shut lips, a very aesthetically pleasing jaw line, thick black hair, covering his head in orderly disarray, his face in trimmed, rich stubbles and his brow bone… Oh, so this is what Scott had meant with eyebrows! Wow, yeah, they were definitively -something-, and when the hell had he cared about that particular part of the human face this much before?!

Stiles gulped as he took him in, trying to imagine himself hanging from those lips, looking into those eyes and burying his hands in that hair. It was kind of impossible. Why the fuck should this freaking grumpy, hot hunk want to kiss him? “Uhh”, Stiles said intelligently and the before mentioned ridiculously sexy eyebrows greeted the hairline of Mr. Grumpyface. “Derek”, he prompted and then immediately returned to frowning at Stiles in a way that was halfway broody halfway trying to solve a difficult math problem. Stiles scratched the back of his head. “I… I know. I mean… I don’t -know-, but Scott told me… About you, I mean.” The look on Derek’s face darkened. “Not much. Nothing… uh… bad. Just a few general things”, Stiles immediately added to make the look disappear again. “Hm”, Derek said non-committal. Stiles lowered his nervously gesturing hands and looked at Derek’s unmoving form. This is really not how he had pictured this to go. He had pictured seeing Derek and immediately being overwhelmed with memories, he had pictured Derek dragging him in his arms and kissing him, he had pictured Derek being all concerned and anxiously waiting for news on him, he had pictured… Well, definitively something different than this.

This was… tense, awkward, unfamiliar and Stiles had no idea what to do about it. Was he the one that was supposed to say something now? But what? His heartbeat was rising again and his breath began to puff out unsteadily. Derek’s eyes narrowed and seemed to zero in even sharper on Stiles, if that was even possible. “Stiles?”, he asked. “I’m okay… I’m okay”, Stiles tried to reassure, but ended up wheezing it more than saying it. Derek was right in front of him in a heartbeat. Stiles hadn’t even seen him pushing himself away from the window and stepping closer to him, but there he was. “Stiles… Look at me… Look at me”, Derek asked with authority but not harshness in his tone and Stiles followed immediately. Derek then grabbed one of Stiles’ hands and laid it on his own chest, placing it so that Stiles could feel his chest contracting and expanding with every breath. “Here… Just like this… Breathe… Just like this”, Derek said quietly and Stiles focused on the feeling of Derek’s breathing, his voice so close to him and nothing else. After a few horribly long seconds, the tightness slowly ebbed away, Derek’s voice anchoring him, giving him focus and not letting the panic take over. His heartbeat slowed to a more moderate pace and he took deep, grateful breaths of air.

“How did you know how to do this?”, Stiles asked, once he was feeling slightly less out of control. Derek locked eyes with him. “You showed me.” Stiles swallowed. He knew what that meant. It meant so much more than just educating Derek, showing him a technique. It meant that he trusted him, that he trusted him enough to let him see him in his most vulnerable state, in his most helpless moments. He -trusted- Derek to take care of him. “Oh”, he said, more out of lack for a big enough response. Derek looked at him again, just looked, as if he was trying to look inside of him, through him and at him and the same time. “You don’t remember”, he stated. “No”, Stiles answered and it pained him now more than before, because now he had in front of him what he had been missing and still it seemed so far away. “You don’t remember me”, Derek stated again. Stiles scrunched up his face, wanting nothing more than to say: ‘I do. How could I not’, but looking at him now, even so up close, the beautiful lines of his face were not familiar. “I’m sorry”, he offered, not sure what else he could say.

Derek sighed, a defeated huff of breath leaving his mouth, and took a step back, turning around to face the window. “It’s not your fault”, he said and even though Stiles knew it to be true, he couldn’t help but feel responsible… somehow. Maybe if he hadn’t driven that night, maybe if he had just crashed at Scott’s, maybe if he had gotten the brakes checked out like his dad had told him too, maybe if the road hadn’t been that slippery… maybe if…. Maybe if. Fact was that it had happened, he had crashed his car into that light post, he had had a concussion and now he was standing here in front of this guy, this great guy that he obviously had feelings for and that maybe had feelings for him too and he just couldn’t remember. It was a joke, a very not funny joke and Stiles couldn’t help but hate fate a little bit for that. Derek laughed and shook Stiles out of his thoughts. It wasn’t a beautiful sound, it rang bitter and self-deprecating in Stiles’ ears and made him almost physically recoil.

“What?”, he asked and saw Derek shaking his head from behind. “Nothing.” Stiles really couldn’t let it sit like that and stepped forward, until he could gently place a hand on Derek’s shoulder blade. “What?”, he asked again and felt how tense the werewolf felt underneath his fingers. Silence followed and Stiles was almost sure that he wouldn’t get an answer but then: “You don’t remember this but I don’t exactly succeed in relationships.” Stiles swallowed rapidly as thoughts of Paige and Kate, not memories, but words out of Scott’s mouth, fluttered through his brain. “It just figures that you…”, Derek broke off and sighed. “That I what?”, Stiles pressed. “I just thought it would be different. I guess, I always think that. I don’t really know how many times I have to be proven wrong until I believe it. Don’t know how many times I need to mess up until…” Stiles really didn’t like the tone of what Derek was saying. He had no right to talk about himself in such a manner, Stiles wouldn’t let him.

“What the hell are you talking about?”, he demanded and dropped his hand from Derek’s back. “Because what it sounds like to me is that you’re blaming yourself for this and that is just… ridiculous!” Stiles tried to get Derek to look at him but he was unmoving like a freaking brick wall. “I was freaking irresponsible, okay? -I- drove my car home from Scott’s, even though it was dark and rainy, and even though I knew that the brakes needed a checkup, and even though the roads were slippery. -I- did that, okay? Not you!”, Stiles raved in anger. “Why do you care so much, huh?”, Derek gave back, equally angry. “You don’t even know who I am! Why the hell would you care if I blame myself?!”

Stiles looked at Derek, speechless for a moment, but he saw it now. The glowering and the intimidating stare that Derek had directed at him earlier was nothing but a mask. It was a mask. Derek was so carefully trying not to let him see that he was hurting, that this was eating him up inside and it was freaking breaking Stiles’ heart. “I care, because apparently I have been in love with you pretty much from the moment we first met. I care because I told you how to calm me down when I am having a panic attack, I care because you kissed me four days ago and Scott said that I couldn’t shut up about it the whole rest of the day.” Stiles had to take a breath. “I don’t know who you are, Derek. But I know what you are to me.”

Derek looked at him and there was so much brokenness in his eyes, so much anguish and doubt and guilt and this was so not okay. Stiles didn’t even have to think about approaching him and tentatively putting his arms around that hard, unmoving body to hug him close. Derek didn’t move a muscle for a long time, but seemed to get that Stiles wasn’t going to let go, so he sighed and finally hugged Stiles back. It was a little awkward but also not at all. “I’ll get my memories back, okay, big guy? I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but the doctors said it’ll happen eventually. So freaking stop thinking that you can’t have this. If you want this, you can have it, okay? I’m yours, or whatever. So just -stop-”, Stiles said quietly, close to Derek’s ear, blushing a little at how weirdly intimate this was. “Okay”, Derek said and it sounded like it took him a lot of effort to even form the letters. They eventually untangled and Stiles felt awkward again, avoiding to look at Derek. “Are you okay?”, Derek asked, obviously seeing, smelling, feeling (?) his distress. “I don’t know”, Stiles answered honestly. “I just wish I would remember, you know? It just doesn’t seem fair that you, out of all the people in my life, are the only thing that I can’t remember.” Stiles looked up. Derek didn’t say anything to that, obviously agreeing wholeheartedly.

“Was the kiss at least good?”, Stiles asked and felt very validated when Derek’s mouth tilted up slightly and a hint of dimples appeared underneath the thick beard. “You seemed to think so”, Derek said almost teasingly and Stiles wished even more that he could just make the memory magically appear again. “Is that so? And what about you? Was it just a mediocre experience for you?” The smile dropped from Derek’s face and Stiles missed it instantly. “If your dad hadn’t called, I would have never stopped.” A shiver ran down Stiles’ spine at the serious tone. Well, that definitively sounded like whatever feelings Stiles had for Derek were returned. “I… yeah… that is… yeah”, Stiles rambled uselessly and gestured in the general direction of Derek’s everything. “So… Do you want to hang around for a bit?”, Derek asked, obviously trying to avoid the train wreck that was surely about to come out of Stiles’ mouth. He seemed to know him well. “Yes. Yeah, I would like that, if you… I mean…” “Shut up, Stiles”, Derek said good-naturedly and almost immediately flinched after, as if for a moment he had forgotten that Stiles didn’t remember their -as Scott had put it- particular form of flirtatious banter.

Thanks to Scott, though, Stiles did in fact know what he was to say next, and he decided to try it on for size, just to see how it felt. “Why so grumpy, sourwolf?”, he eventually settled on and Derek, who had been making his way over to the TV, almost gave himself whiplash by turning around so fast. The slight hope in his eyes crushed Stiles and he decided to never do it again, until he knew the real meaning behind the nickname. “Sorry”, he therefore apologized. “Scott told me that I call you… Sorry.” Derek nodded and a tiny private smile appeared on his lips for a moment. Was it silly that Stiles right then was jealous of himself… well, of the version of himself that that smile was for? Maybe a little. They settled in in front of the TV and started watching some random documentary when Stiles’ eyes started to droop. The last couple of days had been hectic and he was still getting tired a lot as an aftereffect of the concussion. Also Derek, who was sitting fairly close to him, smelled really good and seemed to almost radiate heat. So, no one could really blame Stiles for not bothering to stay awake any longer.

When he woke up a little later, he had changed position and there was definitively something warm and moving and very much alive underneath his head. Stiles snapped his eyes open and… Yep, that was definitively Derek’s chest he was resting his face on, and Derek’s shirt he had drooled on, and… Oh, Derek’s hand that was gently combing through his messy hair. That felt good, really good, and Stiles almost felt the urge to rub his face into Derek’s chest and purr at the sensation. Derek must know that he was awake, though, werewolf senses and all that. “Sorry”, Stiles therefore hastily said, voice scratchy and muffled from sleep, and promptly scrunched up his face as he realized just how much he had drooled on Derek’s shirt. It must have been a good nap. “I don’t mind”, Derek said and Stiles didn’t know if he meant it as an answer to his apology or if he had followed Stiles’ gaze to his shirt. Awkwardly pointing at the proof for his obvious approval of Derek’s chest as a napping place, he replied: “No, you should change. That is… I mean, I didn’t even know I had that much saliva.” Derek couldn’t hide the grin that was creeping on his face and because of this Stiles could see something Scott had not prepared him for: Freaking BUNNY TEETH!

Too dazed from that new piece of completely adorable information, Stiles didn’t really notice that Derek had, in fact, gotten up to change his shirt. But he definitively did notice when he was pulling his shirt over his head to reveal a broad, muscled shoulder- and back section to Stiles’ appreciating eyes. There was something else, though, something beyond the muscles and the smooth tan skin and narrow waist that caught Stiles’ eye. The tattoo, something about its shape, its swirls, reminded him of something. He was drawn to it, stood up and went over to Derek, only to immediately lay his fingers on the beautiful ink. Derek made a sound and immediately stopped trying to put a new shirt over his head. “Stiles?”, he asked, voice rough and unsure. “I just… I don’t know.” Derek went still. “Do you remember something?”, he asked and his voice was leveled, as if he was trying not to let something show. “I don’t know”, Stiles repeated and kept tracing the circles as if it was the only thing he knew how to do.

“What does it mean?” Derek sighed. “Alpha. Beta. Omega. At least in my family. It reminds us of what we are and what we could become. It grounds us.” Stiles nodded, even though Derek couldn’t see. He traced it, following its lines like roads and let his thoughts wander freely, not trying to focus, just letting them all in. He drifted further and further away, the black swirls becoming more and more blurred until he felt like he was in trance, unable to break free of it. Something painful started to hammer in Stiles’ head, at first really distant but getting stronger and louder with time. He gasped, letting go of Derek and the man in question immediately turned around to find him cradling his own head. “Stiles? Stiles, are you okay? What is going on?” Derek sounded panicked and Stiles would have wished to reassure him, but he couldn’t. It just hurt too much. Everything was just too much. And then… Everything turned dark.

“Stiles? Stiles?!”, he heard, as soon as he regained consciousness. Oh Wow, he really must have passed out. ‘I’m fine’ he tried to say but everything that came out was “m’fn.” He practically heard Derek’s relieved intake of breath at his attempt of speech and finally succeeded in opening his eyes too. Derek was crouching next to him looking down on him and by the feel of it, he was lying on the cold floor of Derek’s apartment. What the hell was he doing on the floor? And why was Derek looking so concerned? Had he passed out? Why the hell had he passed out?

His mind felt fuzzy and heavy but other than that fine and when he sat up and spoke again, it finally came out right. “I’m fine. What the hell happened? How did I even get here? Did you like literally make me pass out by kissing?”, he asked anything and everything that came to his mind. Derek was looking at him strangely, very strangely. Kind of serious and… hopeful? “What?”, he asked, hoping to get an explanation for the weird expression. “Do you remember who I am?”, Derek asked and there was a lot of emotions in his voice. Stiles had no idea what to say to that. Did he wake up in a freaking alternative dimension or something? Well, that would explain the headache and maybe the patchy memories of how he even got to Derek’s loft. “What do you mean, do I remember who you are? Of course I know who you are. Unless you’re just something wearing Derek’s face, which would be seriously creepy and definitively give me nightmares for the rest of my life.” Derek looked at him strangely again. “Freaking what?!” And then it hit him.

He did know how he got here. He got here with Scott, to see Derek, because they had kept him from him, because he didn’t remember. Oh my god! He had forgot Derek! Stiles’ eyes went wide and he lunged himself at Derek, clasping him like a life line. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”, he murmured, feeling Derek tensing than relaxing, tensing than relaxing. There was a broken sound echoing from the walls either from Derek or himself, but who knew anymore, who cared anymore. He remembered. He remembered the still boyish looking young man with the leather jacket and the serial killer scowl shooing them of his private property, he remembered holding his freaking castle of muscles up for hours in the school swimming pool to avoid the gigantic, poisonous Jackson-douchebag-lizard, he remembered researching and fighting, being smashed into walls by the same hands that shielded him from evil, he remembered bantering and arguing, blood and loss… He remembered love. God, so much love for this stubborn, grumpy, wonderful guy that was almost crushing his ribs with the force of his hug right this second.

“If you ever do this again, I will kill you”, Derek said quietly, not able to convey the threat of the words in his tone. Stiles laughed, just laughed, loud and free and feeling so much weight being lifted from him that it made him almost high with relief. He let go of Derek and looked at him. “Love you too, sourwolf.” Derek looked back at him and it didn’t seem like he was taking it as a joke. Stiles gulped and was almost relieved when Derek finally broke the tension, leaned forward and gently captured his lips with his own. It was soft and sweet and Derek was parting his lips so gently, exploring his mouth so deeply that Stiles nearly forgot how to breathe. It was definitively more intense than the first time. He felt so close to him now, so connected. How could he have forgotten that he got to have that now? That finally, after months and months of miserable pining, he was allowed to touch and hold and kiss.

“Derek”, he breathed against his lips, after they parted. “I do love you. Just so you know. And even if I didn’t remember who you are the last couple of days, I did love you then too.” It was the truth and Stiles needed Derek to see that, to believe in that. He had loved Derek, he had missed Derek and he knew now that there would always be something missing if he wasn’t in his life. Missing like a limb that you didn’t even know you needed. Derek closed his eyes, rested their foreheads together, gently rubbing his nose against Stiles’ and just breathed. “I love you too, Stiles”, he finally said and Stiles just knew that this right here was a memory nobody could ever take from him.

_The End_


End file.
